


tumblr snippets

by dixie12



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 12:34:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29933481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dixie12/pseuds/dixie12
Summary: depository for short fics I've posted on tumblr- all are pat/jonny, with some various other characters thrown in
Relationships: Patrick Kane/Jonathan Toews, patrick kane/jeremy colliton, patrick kane/jonathan toews/jeremy colliton
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	1. sex pollen pyramid scheme

**Author's Note:**

> i only recently realized how fun it is to write little ficlets on tumblr, so i figured i'd post them here, too. there are not betaed and there is very little in the way of plot!

“What’s in this box?” Jonny asks, eyeing the package on the counter in their kitchen. It doesn’t look like the Amazon boxes that Jonny has gotten used to seeing arrive pretty much every single day. The box seems to shimmer in the sun, making him double-take as he walks by, but on his next look, it’s back to a normal cardboard color. Must have been a trick of the light.

“No idea,” Pat answers. “I just got home a few minutes before you.” He walks over, trailing his fingers over Jon’s lower back as he leans over him to take a closer look.

“Oh no,” Patrick groans when he catches sight of the shipping label. “I told him I didn’t want to be involved in his weird cologne thing,” he continues, rolling his eyes and moving to pick up the package.

“What?” Jonny asks, trying to follow Patrick’s thoughts and failing.

“Seguin.” Patrick sighs out, like that should be enough of an explanation all on its own. Jonny keeps staring at him, waiting to see if more words are forthcoming. “Apparently he’s a ‘brand ambassador’ for this new cologne,” Patrick explains, actually making finger quotes in the air. Jonny knows he has strong opinions about influencers, and it sounds like that might be what Tyler is doing. 

“He’s trying to get his friends to like, sign on under him and sell this stuff,” Patrick says, disdainfully. He reaches for the package again. “We should just throw this out; we’re obviously not interested.”

“Wait!” Jonny blurts out. Patrick stares at him, eyes wide, box in his hands. Jonny doesn’t know where the urge is coming from, but he really doesn’t want Patrick to throw that box away. It looks almost like it’s vibrating in Patrick’s hands, tempting Jonny to open it. “Just, Segs will want to know if you at least looked at it, right?” he tries, fumbling for an explanation.

“Does it matter?” Patrick asks. “It’s literally a pyramid scheme, Jonny. We watched that John Oliver segment on them last year, remember? I don’t think our 10 million dollar contracts need any help from peddling this stuff to our friends.” He walks towards the garbage again, and Jonny has to restrain himself from lunging into Patrick’s path. What has gotten into him?

“Well, Segs is a millionaire, too. There’s got to be some reason he’s involved in this,” Jonny pushes a little desperately. He can feel a light sweat prickling over his forehead. He just really needs to open that box and see what the hell is inside. 

Patrick is just staring at him now, confusion clear in his expression, but he shrugs, placing the box back down and handing Jonny the box cutter.

“I mean, I think Tyler’s involved because he’s a total bro who doesn’t understand his own investment portfolio, but whatever. Knock your socks off, I guess,” he says.

Jonny takes the box cutter and slices into the top of the package immediately. A sheet of paper drifts out, but he ignores it, digging through the packing peanuts. His fingers hit a bottle, and it’s warm to touch, despite the fact that the box itself was cool from sitting outside before Patrick brought it in.

He lifts out a fairly standard-looking cologne bottle, turning it back and forth in his hand, watching the liquid shift inside. The bottle is silvery, but the liquid is changing colors as he moves it around, first a light green hue, then suddenly a bright, vibrant pink. Little bubbles are forming, floating towards the top, and they’re so pretty. He keeps rolling the bottle between his hands.

“Dude,” he hears, and startles, fingers grasping the bottle more tightly.

“What?” He asks, not turning his gaze from the bottle.

“You’ve been staring at that for like, two minutes straight, man,” Patrick replies. “It’s just cologne.”

Jonny starts to answer, but he can’t find the words to explain why he’s so drawn to the bottle. He tries to come up with something, but loses his train of thought, distracted by the bubbles again. It looks so beautiful that he’s sure it will smell amazing.

Jonny uncaps the cologne bottle, bringing it up to his nose. A full, fragrant scent hits him in a rush, making his knees go weak. He reaches out to support himself on the table, still wafting the bottle under his nose. He can make out hints of a smoky bonfire smell that immediately makes him think of summer nights with Patrick, under the stars at his lake house. When that smell fades, he thinks he can make out the crisp smell of a fresh hockey rink. He also thinks there’s a hint of blueberry, the exact smell of the lube that Patrick bought for the first time they had sex.

No wonder Seguin was selling this stuff, if this is what it smelled like, Jonny thought. He was relaxed, all of a sudden, vague worry about a twinge in his knee completely gone. He tried to remember if he had plans for the rest of the day, because surely there was something on his schedule, but the thoughts slipped out of his mind as soon as he tried to focus on them. He gave in, stopped fighting it, and let his head drop as he inhaled deeply again.

“Uh, Jonny,” he heard distantly. Patrick sounded upset. Patrick shouldn’t be upset. Everything was amazing. The cologne smelled so good, and it made Jonny feel so good. He turned around to tell Patrick this, but Patrick kept talking. 

“Did you read the note Seguin put in there?” Patrick demanded.

“No..” Jonny said. He barely recognized his own voice as he said it. 

“Oh shit,” Patrick said, heaving in a deep breath. Jonny had no idea why he looked like that. “Jonny, I need you to look at me and focus. I don’t think this is just cologne.”

“ ‘s amazing, Pat, smells so good. Smell it,” Jonny insists, lifting the bottle up towards Patrick. Why doesn’t Patrick want the cologne? Jonny doesn’t think he’s ever felt this good, body loose. He realizes with a start that he’s hard. Really hard, actually, dick straining against his jeans, and he can feel the precome leaking out, staining his pants. He giggles at that, and starts to unzip his jeans.

“Jonny!” Patrick yells this time. “Seriously, stop it!” He moves toward Jonny, grabbing both of his hands in one of his. Jonny’s legs actually do go out this time, with the force of the orgasm that’s pulled out of him as Patrick’s big hand encircles his wrists. He slumps into Patrick, grinding his hips up against him, orgasm lasting twice as long as usual. He looks up at Patrick’s face, which now looks horrified for some reason, but Jonny can’t care about that right now. Not when he feels this good.


	2. jonny discovers ao3

Jonny was bored. His mom had always told him “only boring people are bored, Jonathan,” if he ever complained about it as a kid, but to be honest, he never really did. He was always outside playing with his friends, or practicing on his own, if his friends weren’t up for. He usually ended up by himself, since not too many kids had the dedication that he did, but Jonny had never minded. There were always drills to run, imaginary games to play in, conditioning exercises to repeat.

That had continued even as he got older. There was always something to do in his training plan or his calendar. Even during his concussion, he had strict instructions to follow and clear milestones to hit during his recovery.

Now, though. There were just blank expanses of time rolling out in front of him. The best doctors in two countries were struggling to understand what was wrong with him, and he was stuck in neutral, nowhere to go, while they worked it out. They didn’t want him to strain himself physically, so his workouts were being kept very light, and without hours at the gym to keep his body and mind occupied, he was going a little crazy.

He was sulking one afternoon, just off the phone with Patrick, who couldn’t stop raving about “the rookies” and how “they’re really blossoming, Jonny, it’s amazing.” Fatherhood had changed Patrick, he thought grumpily. Old Patrick would never have used the word “blossoming” seriously. He let himself sink into a funk, thinking about how much better he and Patrick played together than any of the rookie prodigies Patrick was gushing about. Deep down, Jonny knew he was being a dick, even if the rookies would never know what he was thinking, but he thought he deserved to pout.

In a fit of nostalgia, he opened YouTube to look for highlights of him and Patrick. He didn’t do this often, can’t actually remember the last time he did, but damn they play such gorgeous hockey together, sometimes he liked to reminisce. 

He spent an hour watching videos of them, some hockey highlights, some the old commercials that they were forced into. He remembers hating those so much as a rookie, bitching about them constantly, feeling like he was way too mature to pose for pictures with Patrick and do silly PR challenges. 14 years later, he can’t help but laugh at how little he knew, how much growing up he had ahead of him. Still has ahead of him, probably.

He closes the tab with YouTube, suddenly wanting to read some of the old articles about them in their first few years, saviors of the franchise and all that. He’s trying to figure out the right search terms to pull up the articles he wants, trying all sorts of different combinations and laughing quietly to himself at some of the obscure articles showing up.

Finally, he tried “Patrick Kane/Jonathan Toews love hockey,” because he vaguely remembers a headline from one of the old articles that sounded something like that. He’s scrolling through the results and right in the middle of the first page of Google results is a link to a website called Fanlore. He catches the words “popular pairing” and clicks, intrigued. 

He slams his laptop shut after registering the first few sentences on the page. What. The. Fuck. He and Patrick are a “pairing,” alright, but not a hockey one. This website seems to be saying that he and Patrick are a pairing like, romantically. If Jonny had pearls, he’d be clutching them now. He took a moment to say a prayer of thanks that Sharpy had never stumbled upon this information, shuddering at the thought. 

He tried to put the information out of his head, but he kept thinking about it. Did people think they were dating? Fuck buddies? Secretly and tragically in love? He thought after this long that he’d stopped being surprised by things fans did, but it turns out he was very, very wrong.

He got up, took a few laps of his apartment, stopping by the kitchen for a drink. He poured himself a few fingers of whiskey, not technically on his recovery plan, but whatever, learning that a small, devoted segment of your fanbase thought you were sleeping with your star winger deserved a break from the diet. 

He made his way back to the couch and opened the laptop slowly. The article was still open, and he made himself read it more closely. It wasn’t all that detailed, though, and it ended with a link to another website. He took a deep breath and clicked.

A bright red banner at the top of the page caught his eye, and he read the website name slowly. Archive of Our Own. He hadn’t heard of it, but he realized there was no reason he would have, really. The page was showing a list of the most popular stories about him and Patrick. He scrolled down the page slowly, fighting the urge to literally cover his eyes with his hands. 

He perked up at the second title on the list. He saw the words “Tazer the Sex Machine” and was interested. He bet no one wrote stories where they called Patrick a sex machine. He made sure he was in incognito mode and opened that one to look at more later.

“Jonny’s prostate is a gift from the gods,” he reads slowly. He doesn’t open that one. Just on the first page of results there were stories about Patrick getting knocked up and Patrick being a werewolf, in addition to all of the other stories about sex. Most of the stories seemed like he and Patrick were mostly themselves, just also banging like bunnies, and maybe also dark creatures of the night at the same time. 

Some of these were seriously long, too. Like, 150,000 words long. Jonny doesn’t know for sure, but he thinks that’s the length of a book. People are writing books about him and Patrick fucking. How did he not know about this?

Suddenly, he really wants to know if Patrick knows. It seems like something his sisters might have come across, but he can’t imagine Patrick knowing about this and not telling him. He wonders if PR knows. He’s pretty sure there are interns whose only job is to trawl the internet looking for sketchy things about the players. This has to fit the criteria, and he blushes hard at the thought of one of those poor interns giving Bowman an update about the internet porn about his players.

It can’t just be him and Patrick, he realizes, and a little more judicious searching, still in incognito mode, proves that theory correct. It’s everyone. He and Patrick are the most popular on the tea, but it’s Duncs and Seabrook, Shawsy and Bollig, even Patrick’s beloved rookies are in a few of these things. He picks a few at random and settles in to read.


	3. a bored patrick kane is very dangerous

“Jonyyyy” Patrick whined. Jonny shoved his headphones down over his ears firmly. Patrick was the only person above the age of six he knew who whined with regularity. Sometimes, if he ignored Patrick for long enough, he’d get bored and wander away to annoy Sharpy, and Jonny desperately hoped this was one of those nights.

No such luck.

“Jonny, I’m bored. Entertain me,” Patrick wheedled, batting his eyelashes up at Jonny. Jonny had seen him use that look on multiple teammates, girls, and bartenders, and it never seemed to work, but Patrick didn’t quit at hockey, and apparently, he also didn’t quit at trying sad, pouty looks to get his way, either. 

Jonny sighed, admitting defeat. It was only 10:00, and they had a day off tomorrow, so there was probably no way that he could convince Patrick to go to sleep. Patrick was fresh out of the shower, though, so it seemed like he was content to stay in their room for the rest of the night. 

“What do you want to do, Pat?” he asked, trying to convey just how grumpy he was. 

“Jerk off with me,” Patrick responded immediately. 

Jonny’s jaw dropped, and he stared at Patrick. He couldn’t even blink. “What,” he managed.

“Come on, man, you went to boarding school. Don’t tell me you and your buddies never put on some porn and jerked it together?” Patrick answered, looking genuinely confused.

“What the fuck dude, we never did that!” Jonny’s voice came out higher than he intended, but he figured he was allowed. Was that really what Americans thought happened at boarding school? Some of the shifty looks he’d received from teammates when he told them about Shattuck suddenly made more sense. 

“Oh,” Patrick replied, shrugging. “I guess I assumed you did. No biggie, we can still do it tonight. Gags and I jerked off together all the time last year.” Jonny could not believe that he was hearing this. His mind supplied him a picture of Patrick stretched out on his bed, hand down the front of his boxers, and dick twitched traitorously in his own shorts.

“I don’t care what you and Sam did, Pat. There is no way in hell I’m jerking off with you.”

Jonny didn’t like the gleam in Patrick’s eye. Not at all.

Patrick rolled off the bed, padding over towards the minibar in his bare feet. He opened it and grabbed as many of the tiny bottles as he could, then dumped those on the desk and grabbed a few more. He picked up three of them and carried them over to Jonny’s bed.

“Here, drink these,” he said. Jonny just stared at him. “Come on, we have the whole day off tomorrow, Jonny.”

“Why do you want to drink all of a sudden,” Jonny asked, suspicious. He glanced down at the bottles in his hand- flavored Absolut vodka, gross.

“Because you can act all shocked now if you want, but you’re the horniest drunk I’ve ever met. So, drink, and then you can jerk off with me in like half an hour.”

“I. No I’m. That doesn’t even..” Jonny couldn’t finish a sentence. “Why would you even tell me that?” he finally demanded.

“Dude.” Patrick looked affronted. “I’m not gonna like, roofie you. I just know you, and I know how badly you’re gonna want to get laid once you down those shots.”

Jonny started to say that maybe he just wouldn’t drink them, then, when Patrick cut him off.

“Come on, don’t you want to prove me wrong?” Patrick really did know him well, because there was no way Jonny was going to pass up a challenge like that. 

“Fine,” he said shortly, twisting the cap off the first bottle.

“Cheers!” Patrick yelled, grinning happily at him. 

“Whatever,” Jonny mumbled. He downed all three bottles in quick succession, watching to make sure Patrick drank his, too. All he had to do was not jerk off, and tomorrow, he could tell the guys how Patrick tried to like, seduce him or something. 

“Why do you even think I’m, you know. When I’m drunk?” He asked Patrick a few minutes later.

“Remember a few weeks ago, we were at Rockit?” Jonny remembered. They were at Rockit a lot, actually, but he thought he knew the night Patrick was referring to. “That hot blonde was hitting on you all night, man. Every time you went up to the bar she was right there, running her fingers down your arm, giggling at everything you said. You are not that funny, but she wasn’t giving up.”

Jonny nodded, closing his eyes. She’d been stacked, and with her heels was almost as tall as Patrick. He could imagine the curve of her pink lips as she leaned in and whispered in his ear a few times, breasts pressing up against his side each time.

“Yea, so,” Patrick’s voice startled him out of the memory, and his eyes shot open. “You were barely paying her attention at first, so focused on team bonding and shit. But she was persistent. And then Sharpy brought those shots over.”

Jonny recalled that, too. He and Patrick still couldn’t get served, though he’d tried his luck with a few different bartenders that night. Sharpy had come over with an entire tray of shots, passing them out to everyone. He took two right away, caught up in the celebration from a good win that night. When he looked back down in front of him a little later, though, there were two more empty shot glasses that he didn’t even remember taking.

“You took those shots like a champ, and then you got up. And that girl must have had laser eyes for you, because as soon as you were standing, there she was. And this time, you let her pull you out onto the dance floor.”

Jonny felt his eyes fluttering closed as he sank into the memory. Patrick was right, he had ignored her at first, but when she got him out dancing, he couldn’t resist any longer. She was shaking her ass right in front of him, and he let his hands drift down to her waist, pulling her even closer. He had been glad, then, for the low lighting on the floor, because he was hard, and rocking up against her ass felt too good to stop. She seemed to agree, because she twisted in his arms, turning to face him and getting one of her thighs in between his. Jonny could feel his dick twitching at the memory. She’d been in a short dress, despite the cold weather, and it was riding up, exposing her smooth thighs and she ground against him.

“You were practically fucking her out on the dance floor man,” Patrick continued, voice, dropping lower than Jonny remembered hearing it. Jonny didn’t open his eyes this time, just nodded, cleared his throat. “You bent your head down, sucked a spot on her neck that made it look like she was gonna come right there.” Jonny could hear the moan she made at that, had jerked off to the sound of it more than once since then. “Then you grabbed her hand and just led her out, didn’t even say goodbye to us. It was, uh, pretty obvious how hot she got you.” Jonny refused to be embarrassed by it. She’d been a total smokeshow, and he didn’t think anyone would have walked out of there with her unaffected.

“Anyway,” Patrick said, “I assume you had a pretty good night with her afterwards.” Jonny shivered partly at Patrick’s tone, and partly at the memory of the night.

“Tell me,” Patrick demanded. “Tell me how you got her off, what you did.”

Jonny let out a low groan, but he was already so turned on by hearing Patrick talk about that night.

“I went back to her place,” Jonny started. “I think she’s older than us. I thought she’d offer me some water or coffee or something, but we barely had our shoes off and she dragged me to her bedroom.” Jonny could hear Patrick’s sharp gasp at that, and he went on, “she didn’t even take her dress off. Just pushed me down on the bed and climbed up over me. She said.” Jonny paused, breathing shallow. Fuck this part still got him hot. “She said she wanted to ride my face.”

“Oh my god,” Patrick moaned, and Jonny could hear him start to let out little grunts. He looked over and yea, Patrick was jerking it. “Keep going.”

“She put a pillow under my head, took my hands, put them on her waist. Left her panties on to start, and god, they were already soaked. She smelled so good, could tell she was hot for me.” Jonny was practically gasping now, and he could see a flush high on Patrick’s cheeks.

“Fuck, take it out Patrick. Let me see you,” Jonny whimpered. Patrick moaned again, sliding his shorts down his legs. His cock was big, thicker than Jonny would have thought. Precome was pearling at the tip, and Patrick would gather it with a finger, slide it down the shaft, working it in.

“I got her off once right away, barely took a minute, and the way she moaned.. I thought I was gonna come, too. But I held it together. Didn’t give her much time to catch her breath, just worked her panties off, went right back at it. Ugh the sounds she made the second time, so fucking hot,” Jonny was jerking off now, too. How could he not. “She sucked me off, after, said I’d earned it,” and Patrick groaned loudly at that. “Said I’d been good for her and I swear she didn’t have a gag reflex, took me so deep,” Jonny twisted his wrist at the end of one stroke, could feel his orgasm building in the base of his spine, just like he did that night.

He lost his words, then, just panting loudly as he and Patrick jerked off together. Patrick’s noises somehow turned him on even more, driving him towards the edge, and before he knew it, he was striping up his chest, staining the shirt he hadn’t even bothered to take off. On the bed across from him, Patrick had collapsed back. 

“Told you it was a good idea.”


	4. jonny catches a show from coach and pat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is an idea from a longer fic that i have not written where jonny is still captain, colliton is still the coach, but pat works in the front office doing stats. jonny is deeply closeted, and walks in on patrick and colliton doing some "after-hours strategizing"

Jonny groaned as he reached his car outside the Icehouse, realizing he’d left his keys in his locker after taking them out of his bag, expecting a prank from one of the guys. Sharpy had been eyeing him suspiciously for the last few days, and Jonny wasn’t in the mood to deal with that. He sighed, turning around to trudge back into the building.

Thankfully the doors were still open, so he slipped in quietly, heading straight for his locker. His keys were right where he left them, and he grabbed them, turning on his heel to leave when he realized the light was still on in Jeremy’s office, and the door was cracked open.

Jonny smiled to himself. He hadn’t known what to expect from a coach who was practically his own age, but over the last few years, he’d grown to respect the guy, and even mostly liked him. He was easy to talk to, and always took Jonny’s opinions into consideration. To be fair, Jonny probably had a lot more pull in the franchise than Jeremy did, but Jonny still appreciated the respect.

He knocked lightly on the door as he opened it the rest of the way, planning to give Jeremy a hard time about staying late after practice. He couldn’t count the number of times coach had told him to “relax, Jonathan, and give yourself a break.” No one else on the team called Jonny by his full name, but he liked the way it sounded coming from Jeremy.

“Do as I say, not as I do, eh coach?” Jonny muttered to himself, walking into the room. “What is it you’re always telling me-” Jonny trailed off in shock, mouth dropping open.

Jeremy had Patrick Kane, the Blackhawks’ stats guru, bent over his desk. Jonny could see the whiteboard that he’d used that morning to diagram a play, now all smudged from Patrick’s hand, hanging precariously over the edge of the desk. Patrick’s blond curls were sticking to his neck as Jeremy drove into him, making Patrick shudder with every roll of his hips. They were so into it, Jonny didn’t think they’d even heard him walk in.

He stared for another few seconds before leaving as quietly as he could. He stumbled out of the building to his car, and it took a few attempts just to get his key into the ignition. Hands at 10 and 2, he sat in the driver’s seat, breathing heavily. What the fuck. He’d known Jeremy pretty well, or so he thought, for the last several years. He didn’t know Patrick well, though he was tight with Sharpy and a few of the other guys, but he’d never even heard any rumors about either of them. That didn’t look like a one time thing, either. He didn’t think Jeremy would risk his job fucking some random in his office, so it had to be a thing.

He took another few breaths, steadfastly ignoring the erection that was getting painful in his sweatpants. It was just the whole weird situation, he told himself. He hadn’t gotten laid in a while, and definitely not in the middle of the day. Add that to the leftover adrenaline from practice, and the shock, and it was a perfectly reasonable explanation.


	5. jonny gets in on the fun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> from the same 'verse as the last chapter, but later on. jonny has his first experience with JC/PK

Jonny had showered three times already, but he still felt like he was about to sweat right through his undershirt. He swore to himself, walking over to the fridge and taking out a water bottle, holding it to the back of his neck before cracking it open to drink. He glanced at his watch again, not sure if he wanted it to be 7:00 yet. Ready or not, though, it was, and his doorbell rung just a few seconds later.

Jeremy and Patrick looked calm and comfortable as Jon ushered them in the foyer. Jeremy had been to his place a few times for team events, but Patrick hadn’t. He debated giving them a cursory tour, but Jeremy walked in like he owned the place, bottle of wine in hand.

“Hope red works for dinner,” he said, handing the bottle to Jonny. It was a nice choice, a Napa cabernet that Jonny had tried and liked. Actually, now that he thought about it,

“Isn’t this what we drank last year when we went out with the As before last season?” He asked. Jeremy smiled.

“Yea. You seemed to like it, so I figured it was a good choice.” Jonny didn’t really know what to make of that; Jeremy had apparently been paying attention to how much he liked the wine? He mumbled something in response, taking the bottle from Jeremy’s hand.

“Come on in,” he gestured, “the steak’s on the grill, should be ready in about 10 minutes.”

The dinner that followed was one of the most awkward experiences of Jonny’s life. The air was charged with expectation and want, but Jonny didn’t know how they were going to get from shooting the shit over steak and potatoes to.. anything else that had been so strongly hinted at for the night.

It wasn’t thoughts of dinner that Jonny had been jerking off to every night for the last week, after all.

When everyone was done, Jonny cleared the plates, carrying them to his sink. He had a dishwasher, obviously, but he felt like he needed something to do with his hands. He was soapy up to his wrists, scrubbing a plate with manic determination when he felt Jeremy behind him, hands closing over his wrists. Jonny went tense beneath him.

“The dishes will keep til morning, Jonathan,” he murmured, right into Jonny’s ear. “Come join us on the couch.”

Jonny heaved in a deep breath and let it out slowly, willing his body to relax from the stiff posture. He turned, following Jeremy to the living room.

Patrick had already made himself comfortable, TV turned on low in the background playing some mindless action movie, Jonny thought. He was glad it wasn’t hockey. He didn’t think he’d be able to handle mixing that much business with pleasure.

Jeremy led him over to the sofa, pushing him down gently. 

“Relax,” he said, still quiet, nothing like the powerful tone he needed to use at the rink to be heard over the general chaos of practice or a game.

Jonny sat, unsure what was going to come next. He thought maybe it was going to be an awkward conversation about boundaries, and what he wanted, and was he sure he wanted to go through with this. The evening was taking place at his house in deference to his inexperience, he knew. Jeremy wanted him to feel safe, even if he hadn’t said so explicitly. Jonny sighed, bracing himself for an uncomfortable talk, trying to ignore the arousal buzzing just under his skin making him half-hard.

He absolutely wasn’t expecting it, then, when Jeremy reached over him to cup the back of Patrick’s neck, pulling him close to kiss him. Their lips met in front of Jon’s face, and he stared, entranced. He’d never really let himself watch gay porn unless he was completely wasted, too close to admitting what he really wanted to allow himself to do it sober. Now, though, he had a live-action version right in front of him.

He watched Jeremy’s big hand cup Patrick’s chin, moving it right where he wanted it. He pulled back, nipping at Patrick’s lip, and Patrick groaned, but he gave back as good as he got, tangling his own hand in Jeremy’s shorter hair and surging forward, moving from his lips to his neck. Jonny watched as Patrick bit down on Jeremy’s neck, low enough that a collar would cover it. Shit. Jonny wondered how often Jeremy had come to practice hiding hickies like a teenager, and the thought had his cock jerking in his pants.

The scene continued in front of him for a few more minutes, silent except for occasional murmurs and groans from the two men. For a moment, Jonny wondered if they’d forgotten him, forgotten the point of the evening, but then they pulled back and he was the focus of both of their stares.

“Like what you see?” Patrick asked, too cocky for someone whose hair looked like that, whose lips were bitten and cheeks pink. Still, Jonny found it hard to answer.

“Come here, Jonathan.” Jonny started when he felt Jeremy’s hand on his shoulder, gently pushing him, encouraging him to turn around on the couch. Jeremy situated him where he wanted him, and now Jonny was sitting facing Patrick, back pressed to Jeremy’s chest, one leg folded in front of him. Jeremy’s hand remained on his shoulder, a reassuring weight that Jonny didn’t try to shrug off.

“Come on, Patrick. Why don’t you show Jonathan some of those moves you’re always telling me about.” Jeremy made it sound like a suggestion, but it was obviously more than that. 

This was it, Jonny thought, as Patrick leaned towards him. Last chance to back out. He could feel himself tensing, could feel his breath coming faster, shallow, not in arousal but panic.

“Relax,” Jeremy said gently, rubbing his shoulder. “It’s just me and Patrick. We’re gonna make you feel so good, Jonathan. Just breathe.”

And Jonny had spent the last several years doing everything that voice had told him, throwing himself over the boards, playing his heart out, going out there for that last shift when he thought he was too exhausted to even lift his skates one more time. He’d never said no before, and his body was relaxing and doing as he was told before his mind really understood what Jeremy was saying.

In the next moment, he felt Patrick’s lips against his own. They were swollen from kissing Jeremy, more luscious than he expected from another guy. It felt similar to kissing a girl, for the first few seconds, until Patrick pulled back and nuzzled against him before returning to the kiss. The light stubble lit his cheek up, burning hot, and then Jonny felt Patrick’s hand on his face. 

His hand felt huge as he directed Jonny’s mouth, and Jonny moaned at the sensation of someone who could overpower him if they wanted to. He pushed back, just to see what Patrick would do, and was rewarded by Patrick gripping just a little bit harder, putting Jonny back where he wanted him.

Oh fuck that was hot. Jonny moaned again and leaned forward, suddenly desperate to get his hands on Patrick, but before he could even get his hands up, he felt Jeremy pull him back, settling Jon firmly against his chest.

“Not tonight,” he said. “Just let Patrick.” Jeremy didn’t clarify what he was supposed to let Patrick do, but Jonny relaxed back against his chest anyway. 

“So hot, Jon,” Patrick groaned, knee-walking even closer on the couch, looming over him now. Jonny was penned in, Jeremy at his back, Patrick at his front. Jeremy’s body was all hard planes behind him, nothing like the women he was used to, so petite and soft, breakable. He slumped back further, letting Jeremy support more of his weight, and he felt Jeremy’s arm tighten around him, keeping him safe.

Patrick was kissing him in earnest now, running his hands over Jonny’s chest. Jon didn’t think he’d ever been this turned on just from making out, not even back in high school when everything was new and exciting, before he realized that girls might not really do it for him.

He could feel himself leaking in his boxers, knew he must have an obscene hard-on, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. He thrust his hips up without thinking, searching for any sort of friction, and he heard Patrick give a gentle laugh.

“Yea, you like it, don’t you, Jonny,” Patrick said. “I got you,” he added, and Jonny felt his big hand stroke down Jonny’s chest. Patrick’s fingers trailed over his cock, hard and obvious in his pants, before stroking him firmly.

It only took a few strokes, Patrick’s strong body over his and Jeremy behind him before Jonny was coming. His back arched with the force of it, driving him further into Jeremy’s chest, and that just made it hotter. Coming in his pants, not even feeling Patrick’s fingers on his cock made it dirtier somehow, illicit. The orgasm felt like it lasted forever, and when he finally came down, he laid there in the circle of Jeremy’s arms, panting.


	6. 400

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i was just really sad that jonny wasn't there for pat's 400th goal

Jonny had spent the last three days practicing looking and sounding excited. He knew Patrick would be calling him to celebrate after his 400th goal, especially since Chicago was still mostly on lockdown, and it wasn’t like he could go out and party with the guys. He was determined not to bring Patrick down, not to make yet another conversation about him and his issues. Patrick deserved to be the center of attention, and Jonny was damn well going to give him that.

He texted with Sharpy a bit before the game, predicting when they thought Pat would score. After the frustrating loss in their last game, Jonny had has money on Patrick scoring early. Thankfully, Sharpy didn’t ask how he was feeling; he must have known that he wouldn’t get much of an answer out of Jon, anyway. 

Jon watched the game with increasing tension as time wound down and Pat still hadn’t scored, his body moving unconsciously on the couch as he deked along with Patrick. When the puck finally found the back of the net, after that beautiful hesitation move, Jonny whooped in joy, throwing his arms up before he even realized what he was doing. Not like he had any neighbors to bother, though, tucked away in isolation at his cabin. He pulled out his phone and sent Patrick a quick text, even though he knew Pat would be overwhelmed with congratulations over the next few days.

Jonny pulled up Twitter and watched the goal a few more times, scrolling through reactions from the Blackhawks, NBC sports, the NHL, other Chicago athletes, and pretty much everyone involved in hockey. 

As the accolades added up, a familiar heaviness settled into his chest, weighing down his excitement. Patrick was somehow getting better with age (“like a fine wine, baby,” Patrick had teased him, once), and while Jonny couldn’t be prouder of him, of what they’d accomplished together and what Patrick was continuing to accomplish on his own, he couldn’t help but compare himself to Patrick, and it wasn’t pretty.

Everyone knew that the organization was grooming Kirby to take over for him. If it hadn’t been for that freak injury at World Juniors, the kid would be out there centering the first line right now, in the spot that had belonged to Jonny since 2007. Jesus, Kirby was six when Jonny started his first game in the NHL. How was he supposed to compete with that? Sure he had the “respect of the room” and the experience, but Jonny himself had taken on the captaincy before he turned 21; there was no reason Kirby couldn’t do the same.

He tried not to check message boards too frequently, but sometimes even his willpower wasn’t enough, and he was already feeling sorry for himself, brief elation at Kaner’s goal subsumed into the ever-present anxiety he felt these days. He poured himself a few fingers of whiskey, knocking them back quickly and setting up a refill before he opened up a thread on Reddit talking about the salary cap and bad contracts.

It wasn’t as bad as what Seabrook got, but the general consensus, Jonny learned, was that he was way past his prime. There were a lot of posts that “wished him all the best” but pointed out how much cap relief the Hawks would get if Jonny never came back. “I’ll never forget what he did for Chicago, bringing hockey back with Kaner,” one poster wrote, “but Toews should recognize that his contract is a fucking albatross on the team.”

Albatross. Decline. Overpaid. Lost a step. Lost _a lot_ of steps.

Jonny kept scrolling, barely reading the individual words anymore. Six months ago he may have laughed them off, would have turned to Pat to show him the most ridiculous comments. Now, though. He was pretty sure they were right, and he didn’t really know what to do with that.

The ringing of his phone, signaling an incoming FaceTime call, startled him out of his spiral. Oh fuck, that was Patrick. He hadn’t realized how much time he’d lost reading, nodding his head in bitter agreement as poster after poster pointed out all of his flaws. 

_Showtime_ , he told himself. This was what he’d been preparing for. He hit accept, willing his smile into something bright and natural.

“Congratulations, babe!” he said, a little too loud to his own ears. Maybe the volume would make up for any lack of enthusiasm. “That goal was a beauty, Patrick,” he continued, more quietly and more sincerely. _You can do this_ , he repeated in his head. _Do this for Patrick. Be there for him._

Patrick just stared at him for a second, worn out from the game and all the post-game media, probably, but then he broke into a grin.

“Yea, you liked that, didn’t you?” He replied, letting himself be way cockier than he’d act to the press.

“You know I did, Peeks,” Jonny told him truthfully. “Was so stressed just watching, can’t imagine how you held it together out there.”

“Just imagined you were there yelling at me, telling me to keep my head in the game. I told you to fuck off a few times, just fyi.” Patrick was still smiling, now chugging a Gatorade and stripping out of his suit while they talked.

Jonny was distracted by the broad lines of Patrick’s shoulders, his strong chest and arms now visible as Pat settled down on his bed. Without thinking, he mumbled “better get used to imagining it, man.” He felt his face flush as the words came out. Ugh he sounded pathetic. Patrick deserved so much better than this, especially tonight.

“What do you mean, Jonny?” Patrick asked immediately, languor gone, tension snapping into his muscles as he sat up.

“Nothing, nothing,” Jonny hurried to add. “You can imagine what you want, but I’m imagining being there in your bed right now,” he tried, desperate to distract Patrick and get the evening back on track.

Patrick looked like he might push it, but Jonny took his momentary silence to strip off his shirt, as well. He saw Patrick’s eyes flick down to his chest and abs, and yea, at least he was still able to work out enough that Patrick still thought he looked good. 

Unless. Unless he was looking at Jonny and judging. Looking at Jonny and thinking of how much better he’d look if he were training full-time. How much better Jonny used to look, when they shared the rink and the locker room and the gym, not just each other’s phone screens. 

“Jonny..” Patrick’s voice sounded hesitant. Focus up, he told himself fiercely. 

“Just thinking about your goal, Pat. Gets me hot,” Jonny said suggestively, letting his voice drop lower, one hand drifting down to his chest, fingers sweeping over a nipple like Patrick liked to do.

It wasn’t the best phone sex Jonny had been a part of, though Patrick seemed to enjoy it well enough, based on how hard he came, and how quickly he hung up afterwards, telling Jonny he was about to pass out. Jonny had to work way more than usual at just getting himself hard, getting himself off, but he got there eventually, a minute or two after Patrick.

He usually slept pretty well after an orgasm, and he’d actually been jerking off more often lately just to get himself to sleep. Tonight, though, every time he closed his eyes those comment threads started running through his head. He laid in bed for close to an hour, trying to force himself to sleep before giving up, throwing off the covers and wandering into the living room.

He opened his laptop, even though he knew that if he couldn’t sleep, he shouldn’t be messing around on his computer, either. Nothing good would come of it, not at this hour. 

Instead of message boards, he opened YouTube, pulling up old highlights of himself. He watched his hands, his edges. He watched himself lift the cup three times, remembering the roar of the home crowd that third time, how he felt on top of the world.

His eyes were burning, suddenly. He rubbed at them, clenching his jaw and fighting back tears. He was so tired. Tired of the uncertainty. Tired of the tests. Tired of the well-meaning questions. Tired of being left behind as Patrick continued to exceed all expectations. He didn’t cry, not quite, but it was a close thing. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, breath coming in gulps as he fought for control of his body.

He spent the rest of the night like that, sleep never quite finding him, but not really awake, either. 

The doorbell rang at 7:00, making him jump. Only a few people even knew where he was, and none of them should be showing up this early on a random Monday morning. He stumbled to the door, the old afghan from his couch wrapped around his shoulders. He was probably a mess, but he couldn’t really find it in himself to care.

He opened the door slowly, not sure who to expect, and then he saw the flash of Patrick’s curls. Patrick shouldered in, not even waiting for Jonny to finish opening the door.

“Patrick, what-” he started, but Patrick cut him off right away.

“Jesus, Jonny, you look terrible,” he said, reaching one arm out as he spoke, pulling Jonny in towards him. Jonny tripped, feet heavy with exhaustion, but Pat supported him like it was nothing. “You’re still a terrible actor, man. You were messed up last night, don’t even try to lie.”

Jonny didn’t know what to say to that, brain moving too slowly. Patrick was here. The Hawks had a three day break, their last one of the shortened season, and instead of getting some rest, or maybe seeing his family, Patrick was here. He wasn’t even sure how Patrick had managed to get here this early in the morning.

“How,” he tried again, but Patrick just tugged him in tighter.

“Shhh, Jonny,” he said, stroking one hand over Jonny’s neck. “You look like you’re about to fall asleep on your feet. Let’s just get you to bed.” Patrick started walking Jonny back towards the bedroom, steering with the weight of his hand on Jonny’s neck. 

They stripped quietly, not bothering with pajamas. Patrick settled them on their sides, facing each other, foreheads almost touching. Jonny finally felt his body relax, muscles sinking into the bed. Here in this space, sharing breath with Patrick, he let the tears come.

**Author's Note:**

> come join me on tumblr at [dixie12](https://dixie12.tumblr.com) for more little fics, headcanons, not!fic and general hockey nonsense


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